


Captain Swan is my Favorite Rom Com: While You Were Sleeping

by snowbellewells



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-06-10 09:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15288648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowbellewells/pseuds/snowbellewells
Summary: A modern au reimaging of the movie "While You Were Sleeping" with Emma Swan and Killian Jones in the leading roles, plus various other OuaT characters along for the ride! :)





	1. Chapter 1

Captain Swan is My Favorite Rom Com: “While You Were Sleeping”

By: snowbellewells

Okay, so I love @searchingwardrobes Summer Fandom Event idea of putting our beloved couple into different romantic comedies, and I just couldn’t resist giving it a try when I saw one of my old favorites on her prompt list. I apologize in advance as Killian doesn’t appear right away (though if you’ve seen the movie you probably expected that). I also probably ought to mention that I have switched around some OuaT familial relationships just a bit – but I’ll get into that in future parts when it applies more.  
Last note: Since the Sandra Bullock “While You Were Sleeping” movie takes place in the 1990s, I’m sure cell phones, subway fare, and other such things have made all kinds of advances. I don’t live in a big city where I ride subways often, but I’m going to guess they don’t even use tokens anymore. Still, I’m leaving technology and such as I remember it being in the movie.  
I still don’t own them, but I do hope you enjoy!! This first part’s a bit shorter, just getting the story going, but the next should be up within a couple of days and be longer. (I wish I knew how to give you an adorable manip or photo set for this, but I definitely don’t have those skills. Hopefully I’ve been descriptive enough – and you have seen this awesome movie! – so you can see it in your imagination.)

 

Part One: Prologue

“Next.”

The clink of the subway token in the steel drop slot made its familiar sound as Emma Swan almost robotically gestured the traveler through to make room for the next and fished the coin out to add to the growing pile on the counter at her elbow. At this point, the main part of her job at the Riverside subway terminal on Boston’s Green Line was so routine she barely paid attention or even looked at the equally harried and distracted commuters, but simply gathered their fares, waved them on, and kept the line moving. It certainly wasn’t exciting or life-changing, but it paid the bills, kept her and her cat fed, and if she daydreamed meanwhile about someday traveling beyond the bounds of the city’s subway network, and having someone to travel with – well, no one had to know that but her.

The jangle of another coin in the till jarred her from her morosely-veering thoughts and reminded Emma of her duty, “Ne-” she began to say, even looking up at this person as if to prove she wasn’t lazing on the job, but the words froze on her tongue at the sight before her.

It was him – the mystery man who traveled through her station every week. Like clockwork, he appeared each Saturday at nine, then reappeared on his return journey in the early evening. Only on Saturdays, but without fail; once a week some pilgrimage brought him to her like a shimmering mirage, leaving Emma shaken and breathless, thinking throughout the rest of her work week that she must have conjured him from her own imagination. Though she wanted to shake her head at the preposterous reaction, roll her eyes at the dramatic way her heart raced whenever this guy came into view, and write herself off as pathetic for behaving with such girlish enthusiasm, it never failed to strike her again on Mr. Handsome’s next arrival.  
It wasn’t just the perfectly tailored slate gray suit and handsome overcoat the man wore, the fancy watch on his wrist, or the confident, decisive way he moved and carried himself; it was more in the twinkle of playful mischief she saw in his breathtaking blue eyes behind the proper veneer of his business-like appearance (even on a Saturday), the subtle quirk of his mouth as he never failed to thank her, in a heart-stopping British accent no less, before moving on to his destination, and the way that, though he without doubt had the best products and stylists at his fingertips, there was still an unruly, disheveled mess of curls atop his thick, sandy head of hair. The man was clearly a mover and shaker, powerful, well-to-do, and yet he carried himself as if it were an easy mantle, with the grace not to give his power too much credence or act better than anyone else.

As if to prove her point, the guy smiled at her kindly, even as she did little more than nod dumbly and reach out to take his subway token. His voice was warm, almost melodious with the lilt of that accent as he added, “Thank you, Lass. Have a lovely day.” Then, with a dip of his head and a wink, he was gone, moving off on his way again, leaving Emma looking after him and trying to shake herself back into coherence.

She watched his tall, broad-shouldered frame, now with his back to her, stop on the platform to check the time, and she sighed, dejectedly berating herself for being too dumbstruck to even answer the seeming man of her dreams. “You have a nice day too.” “That’s a great tie you’re wearing,” she snarked to herself quietly, reminding her stunted brain of the sensible replies she could have given Mr. Dreamy instead of merely gawping at him like a fish out of water. “‘You’re beautiful”, “Take me with you…” Letting out a growl of frustration at her own lunacy, Emma buried her head in her hand a moment before knocking her brow against the glass a couple times for good measure. “Stupid, stupid,” was really all she could find to mutter to herself.

However, though she admitted that she might be many things, a wallower was not one of them. After her short personal pity party, Emma drew a deep breath, squared her shoulders and looked up, intending to get back to work – monotony and all. Unfortunately, that still wasn’t in the cards.

She looked up just in time to see her daydreams’ focus be joined on the platform by three other men, looking much less clean-cut and a lot shiftier in their bearings. Whatever the first one said to her suited regular, it clearly wasn’t friendly, as he stiffened rigidly, and Emma did too merely from watching at a distance. The first newcomer gave her commuter’s scarf a flip back over his shoulder, making the muffler fall from his shoulders to the ground, and she could almost read the words on those well-formed lips, imaginary or perhaps even distantly hearing his, “Watch it, you lot. Just back off. I’m not looking for any trouble.” He had turned partially to take in all three of the men who’d accosted him, clearly not wanting to put his back to any one of them, and she could see the storm cloud that had settled on his strong brow, that handsome face dark and warning where before she had only ever seen it show either mild happiness or amused curiosity.

One of the newcomers jeered loud enough for Emma to hear as she cracked open the door of her vestibule, ready to call out and intervene, asking loiters to move on before the next train’s arrival. “Well, you may not want any trouble, guv’nuh,” mocking his English speech obviously as he moved right into her guy’s space, “but what if we do?” And before Emma could call out or make any sort of sound at all, he shoved at her regular passenger, hard enough to send him stumbling back despite his height and the casual poise with which Emma normally saw him move. Though he might well have caught his balance just fine in usual circumstances, they were standing too near the edge of the platform. The next foot he put back to brace himself found only empty space.

One of the hoods bent quickly to swipe the dropped briefcase he had been carrying; while another gave her handsome stranger one last shove in the chest before the three attackers bolted, disappearing up the subway steps, even as Emma finally jolted from her wide-eyed shock, leapt from her stool, and ran toward the fray.

Unfortunately, even as she hurried, she knew it was too late. In nightmarish slow motion, her guy’s arms pin wheeled, still seeking balance. The desperate attempt failed, and Emma skidded to a stop where he had been, grasping for nothing but air as he fell and vanished over the side, plummeting to the tracks below.


	2. Part Two

(This is the first actual chapter after that little prologue a few days ago - thanks so much to those who have already read and shown interest!! Again, this is for the @csromcom18 summer event dreamed up by @searchingwardrobes , and you should definitely check out some of the other awesome stories already posted or in the works over there!

This should answer a couple of questions, and give you a better idea of who’s who (though I have to apologize that Killian still hasn’t appeared yet, he will soon, I promise!)

Hope you enjoy!

 

Part Two

Emma hesitated only seconds as she peered frantically off the platform to see the traveler lying sprawled and motionless on the tracks. She didn’t know just how far a drop it was, but it couldn’t have been good for him. She’d already called out to the girl in the stand next to her to call for 911 before she took off running, to let them know that a man had been pushed from the station platform. Whatever injuries he might have sustained, he would surely need to be looked over, she reasoned as she began awkwardly trying to scramble down to reach him as quickly as she could.

Finally getting her feet on solid ground after half-clambering, half-sliding down the platform supports, Emma ran along the rails to reach the prone form of her mysterious stranger, still lying arms and legs akimbo where he had fallen. As she reached his side, Emma fell to her knees breathlessly, calling out, “Sir! Can you hear me?! Sir, please, we have to get you off the tracks!” Frantic indecision washed over her briefly, knowing he could have all manner of unseen internal injuries and shouldn’t be moved, but she was also certain that she needed to get him off the tracks; the 8:15 was due any minute.

Emma reached into the breast pocket of his jacket, leaning even closer over him as she tried to detect a breath escaping or his chest rising and falling and muttered to herself as the spicy, masculine scent of him engulfed her senses. ‘Of course you smell like Heaven itself. Why wouldn’t you? As if this weren’t awkward enough already…” Forcing her mind back on track instead of continuing her nervous, sidetracking rant, Emma fished about uncomfortably until she found a wallet, pulling it out and opening it to find his name at last.  
“Liam,” she whispered almost reverently at seeing ‘Liam Jones’ printed on the driver’s license, testing the somewhat foreign name out on her tongue just once, liking the way it sounded classic, unique – just what she would have expected. However, she didn’t have time for mooning and daydreaming. Shaking herself from contemplation, Emma looked down at his still, sculpted face and asked worriedly, “What am I supposed to do with you, Jones? Help is on the way, but…”

As if to accentuate her dilemma, the 8:15 train whistle blared its warning in the distance just then. Emma had known it was coming, and yet she still looked up, eyes wide, mouth going dry, at least hoping that the speeding behemoth wouldn’t be in sight yet. Unfortunately, as if her heart weren’t already about to beat out of the cage of her chest, when she squinted, Emma could see the engine in the distance down the track, and she could begin to feel the vibrations of its movement through the steel beneath them.

Bending over the prone form before her once more, with a new insistence and urgency born of near panic, Emma gripped his coat lapels as if to shake him or jerk him up, she wasn’t sure which. Moving him could do damage, but being run over by a subway train definitely would, and so she practically yelled, only a quaver of the desperation she felt coming through in her voice. “Mr. Jones, you have to wake up!! Do you understand? There’s a train coming! The 8:15…” she shook her head at her own lunacy – as if he needed to know which one it was while it barreled down on them. She wasn’t deterred for long, quickly glancing up again to see that the train was drawing alarmingly closer to them, letting out another warning blast, then back down, lightly slapping her passenger’s cheek and trying to urge him awake. “It’s an express… and it’s FAST!” She was babbling now; her actual words hardly registering as she spoke. She tried one more last ditch call – half pleading and half ordering, “Liam! Mr. Jones! You have to GET UP!” and then her adrenaline spiked and simply took over.

Grabbing his shoulders, wrapping her arms around his torso as tightly as she could, and partially lifting him, Emma somehow desperately surged to the left, taking his body weight with her and rolling them both off the actual track to the side of subway’s path. Holding what breath she had left that hadn’t been knocked out of her by the rough landing and Liam Jones’ dead weight now resting solidly on top of her, Emma held herself rigid, frozen in shock for several long seconds, the air from the passing cars whooshing over her. The 8:15 express sped by right next to them, practically on top really if they had rolled even a foot less, and Emma could only close her eyes, shaking at how close it had been, and thank her lucky stars.  
When the train had finally breezed past and left the station behind, Emma tried as gently as possible to nudge the still unconscious man off her; finally succeeding and sitting up shakily, only to look down and see those bright blue eyes flutter open blearily, looking more than a little confused as they landed on her. A slight, crooked smile quirked one side of his firm lips upward, and Liam Jones mumbled, “Well, hello beautiful,” at her dazedly, before he succumbed to unconsciousness once again.

Charmed in spite of herself, Emma shook her head at his near-flirting while only half aware, tamped down the sudden urge to brush her fingers lightly through those light brown curls, close cropped to his head, but still way too inviting, chalking it up to post-trauma emotion and sheer relief. Instead, she gingerly patted his chest once, and then moved to stand, hearing the wails of the ambulance finally drawing up overhead and wanting to direct them to Jones right away.

Things were a blur from there. EMTS swarmed around her and her handsome no-longer-a-stranger. Asking Emma questions, securing a neck brace around the once more oblivious man, and lifting him onto a backboard, the paramedics were soon moving his tall frame to a stretcher. They were hurrying him away; rushing him back to the emergency vehicle and then the hospital to find out what they were dealing with.

She was urged along with them, the medical personnel wanting to check her out as well, just to be sure she didn’t have some unrecognized issue that shock and draining adrenaline were masking. Emma would have fought them on it – she was stubborn and knew that there hadn’t been any lasting damage done – but she wanted to know if Liam Jones would be alright. So when she got back onto the platform to find that her co-worker (Ashley she thought it was, the girl was always trying to get her to go out on the weekend or to make conversation when she came on shift in the mornings) had already alerted their supervisor as well as calling the ambulance, Emma acquiesced to the paramedics’ requests and rode in to the hospital with Liam Jones. The other woman had told their boss what happened, how Emma had literally kept a death from happening on their line, and been assured that Emma should take care of herself and be checked out, a replacement to take over the rest of her shift was already on the way, so she was covered and it couldn’t hurt anything. 

Once arriving at Massachusetts General, the momentary relief that had taken over her as she reached across during their ride to take Liam’s hand, talking to him almost without realizing it and assuring him everything would be fine, was shattered by the doors bursting open, people yelling orders and questions all around, and their movement taking off at a run. Emma’s hand was pulled from Liam’s as the bustle and activity in the emergency entrance separated them. The gurney holding Jones was being wheeled away from her into the ER, and Emma moved to follow, but a bulky orderly stood in her path. “Only family allowed through these doors,” he stated implacably, arms folded across his chest.

Emma wanted to argue, even push the man aside and continue on her way. She bit her bottom lip hard, forcing herself not to blurt out that Mr. Jones was still alive to be saved thanks to her. Shouldn’t that count for something? Instead, she turned silently, moving in a sort of haze toward a couple of chairs gathered around a derelict-looking coffee vending machine. She was almost mortified to realize that tears were starting in the corners of her eyes, and she blinked them back fiercely, drawing in several deep breaths to calm herself again. “Family,” she whispered longingly, the words meant for herself alone. “So much for that dream.” 

Wrapping her arms around herself tightly, a defense mechanism as much as it offered any comfort, Emma settled in to wait, hoping someone would remember the lone woman in the waiting room when they knew something certain, and at least let her know whether or not the man she had saved would be alright. She didn’t notice the sweet, redheaded nurse who had seen her entrance, heard the police and EMTs milling around, nodding in the blonde’s direction and stating that ‘yes, she was the one who saved that man pushed from the subway platform’. Ariel, or so the name on the tag on her scrubs read, had already begun moving toward the quietly distraught woman after seeing her turned back at the swinging doors. She had repeatedly asked Leroy to be less gruff with upset and emotional family members and friends of their patients. She knew that security was his job not hers, but she had just seen with her own eyes that once again his surly attitude often did more harm than good.

The kindly young nurse had just gotten close enough to reach out to this Emma Swan, as she’d heard her name was, lay a hand on her shoulder and ask if she could get the other woman anything, when she heard the defeated lament breathed out under her breath sadly. Ariel sensed the loss and loneliness in the other woman’s posture, could see for herself that their new patient mattered somehow to this brave woman – she had after al risked her own life to save his – and that now it probably seemed as if he had been taken away with no consideration at all. A pang sliced through Ariel then, her own fiancé Eric flickering in her mind’s eye. She knew how devastated she would be if he were hurt and she couldn’t help him or even be at his side. Determination took over her deceptively sweet and innocent-looking face, and the nurse marched off quickly – a woman on a mission. 

She had drawn her own conclusion of the situation, and she was going to do something about it.


	3. Chapter 3

Wow! I can’t believe it’s been over a week since my last update on this. I never intended to keep you all waiting that long, but I had a lot of tooth pain, which led to a root canal and then more soreness and pain recovering from it, and then some errands and visits I needed to take care of. Suffice it to say, this has been written for days, but the typing and posting was the hold up. Anyway – enough excuses! – here’s Part Three, which finally brings you Killian and is longer to boot! Hope you enjoy, despite the delay!

This is also the section where the change in familial relationships comes into play. Basically, I have made David and Mary Margaret into Liam, Killian, and their younger brother’s parents instead of Emma’s. I didn’t now how (or want to, in Brennan’s case) write Brennan and Alice Jones, and I hated to leave David and Mary Margaret out. Also, I felt like their younger brother shouldn’t be Liam in a real world AU, since it would sound kinda strange. I went with Nicholas, after the guy who played Liam 2.0 on the show (whose name is Nick Eversman). 

 

Part Three

By: snowbellewells (TutorGirlml on ff.net)

 

Emma was more than a little surprised when she was jolted from a restless doze a couple hours later, by a bright-eyed redhead wearing a name badge that read ‘Ariel’ and smiling brightly as she urged her up; she could take her to see Mr. Jones.

“Really?” Emma questioned groggily, trying to stretch the kinks from her neck and shoulders and wipe the sleep from her eyes, even as she was already standing clumsily and moving to follow the too-perky but effortlessly endearing little nurse down the hall. “What changed?”

“Well, for starters,” this Ariel looked back over her shoulder with a reassuring smile, making sure Emma was still with her, “word’s out that you saved his life. You’re a hero! They’re certainly not going to keep you from seeing that the risk you took wasn’t in vain. The hospital doesn’t need that kind of bad press!” She chuckled, finally coming to a stop at the elevators, and after ushering Emma in before her, punched the buttons up to the quieter floors for in-patient recovery.

With a ‘ding’, the doors slid open again on the fifth floor, and Ariel offered her a playful wink. “Plus, I might have put in a good word for you…reminded them that you’re not just anybody…”

“I’m not?” Emma questioned blankly, not sure what her seeming new friend could even mean by that, but too numb, confused, and irrationally happy to be allowed to check on Liam Jones to process or question the odd pronouncement as fully as she probably should.

Ariel merely shook her head, giving Emma a conspiratorial smile that only puzzled her further, but they had come to a stop outside a private room. The nurse began to quietly explain that though Mr. Jones was now in stable condition, he had hit his head in the fall and, due to the injury, was in a coma.

Sucking in a startled breath at the news, Emma’s eyes flew to search the nurse’s face, hoping to read between the lines to the truth as she questioned, “A coma? Isn’t that pretty serious?” and then, swallowing hard, “but…he’ll wake up from it…won’t he?” She had often felt she could sense a lie from others, even f they meant it kindly or in some misguided attempt at protection. She’d spent too many years essentially alone in the world, fending for herself and having to know who was and wasn’t trustworthy in order to get by, that she couldn’t be otherwise. Only to herself, she was rather proud of her ability to judge character, almost humorously considering it a bit of a ‘superpower’.

Thankfully, when the young nurse offered her a reassuring smile and reached out to squeeze her hand briefly before turning to usher Emma into the hospital room, Emma picked up no trace of falsehood in Ariel’s face or tone. “There’s no medical reason to think he shouldn’t, given time for the swelling to go down and his body to rest and recover. Of course, the brain is a funny thing, and often each person reacts differently to a head injury, so there are no guarantees, but your being here and talking to him can’t hurt,” she added at the end, urging Emma forward with an encouraging nod before she stepped back toward the door to offer a bit of space and privacy.

Suddenly, with her crush right before her again, mercifully still in one piece and breathing steadily, but with none of the twinkling eyes or easy, casual greetings he usually brought with him to her little station, Emma felt hesitantly uncertain of what to say or do. Several slow, halting steps brought her right up to his side at last, her hand coming up to rest on first the bedrail and then softly on his arm, before she even realized she was doing it. Looking down at the man she had only spoken to in passing and daydreamed of knowing better, Emma couldn’t seem to force any words past the lump in her throat, her mouth going uncomfortably dry.

Nurse Ariel piped up then, still looking entirely too bright and chipper for Emma’s comfort; she honestly wanted to shake the perky redhead into the reality that she lived – things don’t always work out well, in fact they rarely do – if she hadn’t been so grateful for the other woman’s consideration and help. “You can go ahead and talk to him, you know. He might not be able to answer, but most believe that coma patients do hear people speaking to them. I can even step just outside here if you…”

However, her words were cut off just then by two harried and displeased looking doctors entering the room – clearly already at odds with each other and not expecting to see her there at Mr. Jones’ bedside. “What are you doing in here?” the younger one, a tall, lean surgeon with unnaturally almost-white blond hair sticking out wildly from his head and a barely contained vibrating intensity about him demanded. “I believe it was made quite clear to you on arrival that visitation was family only on this floor.” His mouth was a tight, grim line, and he took a step forward almost as if he intended to throw her out then and there, except that the other newcomer, a much more reserved and bespectacled man, placed a staying hand on the first doctor’s shoulder.

“Now, Vic, calm yourself,” the other gentleman cautioned, his tone moderating, placating the anger at being disregarded which his colleague clearly felt. “This is the woman who saved his life; it only makes sense that she would want to know how he is doing.” He gave a quick, reprimanding glance at the nurse still standing in the doorway before adding, “Though one does have to wonder how she found her way in…”

“But we can’t just allow everyone admittance,” the first man started to insist again, only to have Ariel step forward boldly and assert –

“Well, good thing she’s not just some stranger then!”

Emma’s brow furrowed again, registering for a second time that this young woman wasn’t quite making sense. She was about to interrupt the hissed exchange herself, even though she didn’t move from Jones’ side, and ask if her new friend had somehow confused her with someone else, when they were all startled into openmouthed silence by a whole group of people barging into the room just then, all gesturing wildly in excitement and talking at once. “Where is he?” “What’s happened to him?” “Who’s in charge here?” all bouncing around in the small room that had doubled in occupants.

As the brash younger doctor stepped forward to introduce himself and explain, Emma quickly gathered that this was Liam’s family and could easily see the resemblances in the people she was now watching swarm around the bed she had been standing near to the man she had watched from afar at the station for so long. As they made their raucous entrance and the doctors began answering their questions, Emma tried to back further into the corner of the room – edging toward the door and hoping to stay out of sight and mind.

The older physician, a Dr. Hopper as he had identified himself to the family, was explaining about the fall, their son’s comatose state, and that they were hopeful for his full recovery, seeing as his vitals were strong and brain waves were good, but Emma couldn’t help her eyes going directly to the tiny sprite of a woman with short, dark hair who had to be Liam’s mother. Her heart went out to the woman as her pert chin lifted defiantly, like she was already vowing to fight for her grown son, even if Emma could see it quivering with emotion, as she mouthed the disconcerting words ‘brain waves’ after the doctor.

In fact, Emma had almost become so engrossed in the drama unfolding around her that she was startled when the younger doctor broke in once more, gesturing impatiently toward her before blurting out, “She’s still here! And she shouldn’t be hearing all this meant for the family only.”

Emma cringed back instinctively, knowing they were surely going to throw her out now – and rightly so, she supposed. At least she knew he was stable and quite probably going to be just fine.

Ariel, though, couldn’t seem to hold back any longer from where she still lingered in the doorway; fired up with righteous indignation, she cried out to her antagonistic superior, “She saved his life, alright?!? Back off!” Squaring her stance as if for a fight, she seemed helpless not to add the piece of the puzzle Emma had been missing, and it made her suck in a horrified breath at just how far off the mark the well-intentioned nurse was. “Besides, she’s the fiancé, you idiot!! That does give her the right to be here!”

Emma started to shake her head ‘no’, needing to set the record straight before things got even more convoluted, but her thoughts were pinging around insider her brain like the insides of an arcade game, and it tied her tongue just a moment too long.

A quieter man than the rest of the family, who had been mainly hanging back to steady the grandmotherly woman in their company and listening, spoke up curiously. “Wait…saved his life? I thought he was pushed from the subway platform?”

“He was,” Dr. Hopper confirmed. “She jumped on the track with him; rolled him off just in time to keep him from being run over.”

Eight pairs of eyes swung back to Emma then, somewhat awestruck, to which she merely shrugged awkwardly, glancing down at her feet before confirming, “That’s true. I did do that.”

“Still…” the surgeon pressed undeterred, only to be stopped by the broad-shouldered, sandy-headed man who up until then had completely focused his attention on what they were doing for his son and whom he should speak to about ensuring his Liam received the absolute best care. He stepped forward and brushed the accusing doctor aside with a single, indisputable motion of his powerful arm.

“She is family,” he stated simply in a deep, commanding tone that brooked no argument.

Throwing up his hands in defeat, the younger surgeon finally gave way and swept from the room. When no one stood between them any longer, the larger man’s imposing stance softened considerably, giving Emma a wide, genuine smile that warmed her all the way to her toes, along with a firm handshake before meeting her eyes to offer sincerely, “Thank you.”

Then the rest of the Jones family were bustling forward: an early high school aged boy, the older grandmotherly type, the woman Emma had already determined must be Liam’s mother, and the other man who had spoken before – an uncle maybe. They were all introducing themselves to her, patting her on the shoulder, clasping her hands in gratitude, and talking at once again, so that Emma couldn’t get a word in edgewise. She shot a look to the door where Ariel clearly read her distress, but only mouthed “Sorry,” with a regretful look on her face and slipped out while the way was free – before Emma could get to her.

Stepping forward, the mother wrapped Emma into a hug, swaying her from side to side comfortingly, even as her voice quivered. “I am so sorry, sweetie. It’s been a while since we last saw him. We didn’t know…” Not waiting for Emma’s response, she gathered her up and whispered in her ear as she pulled her close, “I always wanted my boys to find nice girls…I’m so glad Liam found you.”

Emma didn’t know what else to say to the sniffle she could hear against her shoulder and the embrace she was wrapped in, other than that it was alright, and she hadn’t taken any offense. There was no way she could admit right then that she barely knew their son or that it had all been some huge mix-up. Part of her brain was urging her to – before the situation became even worse – but she just couldn’t upset the bunch of them when they were already distraught and fragile.

Instead, she listened carefully, nodding along to introductions and explanations, learning that the bulky man who had proclaimed her part of the family was David Jones, Liam’s father, the pretty raven-haired woman who had yet to stop hugging or touching her in some way was his mother Mary Margaret, the teen with a quite familiar twinkle in his eye was the youngest son Nicholas, the older woman was indeed David’s mother – Liam’s grandmother Ruth, and the other gentleman was the father’s best friend and practically the adopted uncle, Graham Hunter. “He did us a favor once that practically saved our lives,” Mary Margaret explained in the sweet, gushing way that Emma could already see was simply part of her nature.

This Graham, for his part, looked a bit embarrassed at the praise, shaking his head and trying to belittle his role. “Hardly that,” he scoffed, “I just did what any friend would do.”

“Still,” David chimed in, stepping forward to clap a hand to the other man’s shoulder. “It meant a great deal to us. I don’t honestly know where we’d be now without you.”

“Probably all living in the main barn back on the old family sheep farm,” David’s mother piped up then, making all of them chuckle and lightening the serious turn the mood had taken.

After a few minutes, they settled into normalcy once more, Ruth returning to one side of Liam’s bed and fluffing his pillows fussily before settling into a chair, Nicholas – “just Nick is fine,” he’d assured Emma with that same roguish grin she’d come to look forward to every Saturday from his older brother – beside her with a hand on her shoulder. Mary Margaret took up the other side of her son’s bed, smoothing the sheets and brushing an errant curl from his forehead. She motioned David over with her and began asking her husband if he looked comfortable, if he thought their son had a bit more color than when they’d first arrived; anything to keep herself busy, in truth. Graham was pacing at the foot of the bed, and Emma finally saw her chance.

“Well, it was nice to finally meet all of you,” she tried, hoping her words sounded normal. “I’ll be back soon, obviously, but I have to head home for just a little while, since you all are here with him now. I do still have to work tomorrow.” She was right at the door, smiling, but not coming back into the room, even when they protested, telling her they should go and let her be with Liam. She assured them it was fine, and had put her hand on the doorknob, when Nick spoke up. “Wait! You can’t go yet. You haven’t even met Killian!”

“What?” she asked, just barely managing not to ruin her entire story by asking who Killian was, pausing against her better judgment.

“Oh, that’s right, you haven’t met Killian,” Mary Margaret realized. “He’s been up in Maine for several months now, starting his own business venture. We called him when we got word of Liam’s accident, and he set off right away, but he won’t make it until tomorrow.”

And that was how Emma finally left the hospital for her apartment, carrying David’s business card with the landline number to their large farm outside the city and a promise extracted from Mary Margaret and Ruth to join them all for dinner the following evening after work. “You can meet Killian then. I’m sure he’ll just love you. Like we do already,” had been his mother’s parting words on the matter.

Graham Hunter followed her out, escorting her as far as the elevators down to the main lobby. As they stood waiting for the elevator car, the quiet nearly ringing in their ears after the hubbub of the Jones clan crammed in one small hospital room, Graham gave her a nod of understanding, his brown eyes warm and clearly seeing how close to overwhelmed she was. “You’ve done a really good thing, Emma Swan,” he murmured, stepping back as the doors opened with a clang and she stepped inside, turning back to wave goodbye. She could really only smile as he added, “You didn’t just save Liam today…you saved all of them. They’ll take you in now and never let you go. Trust me on that one.”

As she rode quietly down to the first floor, even as her head was spinning from all that had happened and she was not sure just what she ought to do, Emma couldn’t help thinking, after spending so long alone, that being taken in by that family didn’t sound so bad.

~ ** ~

By the next evening, Emma had already been to work and back to her small, quiet apartment to check on her cat, Tink, and now felt nerves taking over her again; more than tempted to stay home on her own. Yes, she was isolated, but she was comfortable and safe too. She had tried to call and get out of dinner with the Jones family, but her doubts and concern had been to no avail. They simply wouldn’t take no for an answer, insisting that serving dinner for the woman who had saved their eldest’s life – not to mention getting better acquainted with the woman he planned to marry – was the very least they could do. Rather than convincing them she’d have to take a rain check, all Emma’s earlier call had done was earn her a ride and an escort to the Jones’ farm.

Gently scolding the brown-striped tabby as it hopped up onto the counter to study her quizzically before playfully reaching out a paw to swat at her nose, Emma sighed before gathering Tink in her arms and meandering across the tiled floor of the kitchenette to plop into a chair. Scratching behind the appreciative feline’s ears, she murmured to her pet, “What am I gonna do now?” mournfully. “I don’t even know these people…and they think I’m engaged to their son.”

Though Tink couldn’t answer her, the tabby flicked her ears and purred contentedly at her mistress’ attention and appeared to be solemnly taking in every word. Emma had been on her own for so long now – nearly seven years since her adoptive mother had succumbed to the cancer she had fought since Emma’s senior year of college – that she wasn’t sure how to function in a family setting. She’d never been able to experience big family dinners full of babbling conversation, nor holiday gatherings with gifts to exchange, games to play, and so forth. Long ago, when she’d still been bouncing from group homes to foster families and back again, there could have been nothing she’d have wished for more. Now, though her life might be small, it might seem insignificant and cut off, she was settled and doing fine. She was no longer sure if a lost girl like her could ask for much of anything more.

She was still replaying Mary Margaret Jones’ teasingly guilt-inspiring words in her head, “Ruth’s been looking forward to seeing you all day,” unrepentantly using her mother-in-law to make Emma further unable to deny them her presence. “You wouldn’t upset a poor little old woman, would you?” Emma sat Tink down by her filled food and water dishes, checking once more to be certain the lights and appliances were off, and everything would be okay in her little apartment until her return. As per the spitfire of a woman’s last instructions on the phone, her middle son should be arriving at any minute to pick Emma up and bring her to their home.

A knock on the door confirmed it for Emma clearly, and she blew out one more tense breath, nervously smoothed down the tan corduroy skirt she wore over tights, and crossed her small entryway to open the door for the elusive Killian Jones. It was too late to back out now; she would simply have to grin and bare it, try to have fun with this sweet, funny family while she could, and hope things didn’t end as horribly as she envisioned.

She couldn’t have expected, however, the way that resolve went immediately by the wayside. Standing before her, leaning against the doorframe casually and looking for all the world like some dark-haired model, was the man who had to be Liam’s younger brother. He shared the sparkling eyes and strong jaw of the man she had been admiring for months, but though she wouldn’t have thought it possible, Killian’s eyes were even bluer against his dark – almost black – hair and facial scruff. The leather jacket he wore with dark jeans and scuffed, well-loved looking boots leant him a less polished appeal than his older brother had always borne, and it sent a thrill through Emma before she could even consider it.

Sucking in a sharp breath, she blinked in surprise and gripped the door handle to steady herself.

Raising a dark, impressive eyebrow, her visitor smirked before greeting her smoothly with the tiniest sketch of a bow. “Killian Jones, milady,” he jested lightly. “I hear gratitude is in order.”


	4. Part Four

I am so sorry for the long delay on my update to this CSRomCom18 version of While You Were Sleeping. It definitely wasn’t my intent to stay away from the story this long!! The good news is, this is the halfway point, and I hope to have the second half up in much quicker succession. As we pick back up, Emma is about to have dinner with the Jones family, and though they aren’t the soon-to-be in-laws they think, she finds herself wishing they could be…

Hope you enjoy (and as always, I don’t own CS or the original movie, but I would love to hear what you think of this retelling! J)

Part Four  
By: snowbellewells (TutorGirlml on ff.net)

As it turned out, Killian Jones, middle son of the family that was rapidly trying to envelop her in their warm, enthusiastic embrace and make her one of their own; a skilled craftsman, she had learned – specializing in handcrafted old-time sailing ships and boat repair – and ludicrous flirt (“Why yes, Swan, you’ve guessed it. That does make me quite good with my hands,” was still silently making her chuckle to herself) was also incredibly easy to be around. She felt the conversation flow between them naturally and well, which was a rare feat in her limited experience. She found was genuinely enjoying his company much more than she would have imagined.

By the time they reached his parents’ farm, Emma knew more about him than the co-workers and acquaintances she had seen almost every day for three years, and she was sure she had inadvertently let him see more of who she truly was than she had let slip to anyone, possibly ever since she had lost the listening ear and quiet understanding of Ingrid, her adoptive mother.

In fact, as they tramped through the snow covering the long, meandering drive to reach the shoveled front walk at his parents’, they were laughing together at her own expense about how Emma hadn’t wanted to put his family out or for them to go to any extra effort on her account, but somehow couldn’t manage to turn them down either. “Oh aye,” he’d chuckled, nodding his head in agreement and bringing a calloused hand up to scratch behind his ear in a seemingly unconscious gesture of embarrassment. “Once Mum and Grammy Ruth team up on you, you don’t stand a chance of resisting. They’re rather a force of nature.”

By that time, he was opening the front door – just as she guffawed loudly at his apt statement, ending in a surprising and undignified snort that shot her eyes wide and sent a blush spreading over her cheeks.

Killian’s eyebrow jumped in response at her unguarded and more than a bit endearing slip, pleased more than he had any right to be that she seemed at ease when she had appeared so nervous upon his arrival at her apartment earlier, and feeling a troubling warmth in his chest from enjoyment of her company. Trying to brush aside the affection he felt blooming within for his brother’s intended, Killian laughed along with her heartily, the sound alerting his family in the other room of their arrival.

His mother was the first to appear in the entryway, hurrying out to greet Emma with open arms, gathering her in an exuberantly tight, welcoming hug, exclaiming how glad she was to see her again, and how much they all would have missed her if she hadn’t come. Emma was still dumbfounded by Margaret Jones’ welcome acceptance – no one had ever wanted her around that much, and now a half dozen near-strangers seemed to want to absorb her right into their family, no questions asked. Which only made the fact that she wasn’t the fiancé they believed her to be prick her guilty conscience all the more. Blinking dazedly, she slowly brought her arms up to hug the petite, dark-headed woman in return, moving almost as if she were on autopilot.

Still chuckling lightly, Killian reached out to place a hand on his mother’s shoulder as he joked, “Ease up, Mum. I know you’re glad to see her, but let Emma breathe.”

Margaret released her to shoot a playful glare at her son, before swatting at him and retorting, “Oh, hush you! I don’t think our Emma is going to break.”

She then winked at Emma conspiratorially as if they truly were old friends or actual family and ushered them on into the house to the dining room, where her husband, her youngest, her mother-in-law and Graham all greeted them with equal enthusiasm. Meanwhile, Emma found herself swallowing hard around a considerable lump in her throat and struggling mightily not to let fall the tears stinging in the corner of her eyes at the display of such warmth. Other than with Ingrid, she had never felt so included, so part of a family group, and though she knew she shouldn’t let herself grow attached, Emma couldn’t help savoring it for the moment, for whatever time she had to experience what most people were simply born having. She’d be on the outside again when they learned the truth, no doubt, but rather than fighting their welcome, she’d enjoy not being the lost girl while she could.

Dinner was a loud, impressive, chaotic affair with snatches of at least four different, unrelated conversation topics wafting throughout, up and down the table, interrupting and overlapping each other merrily. For her own part, Emma mostly listened raptly, eyes twinkling with mirth, and shoving more mashed potatoes into her mouth whenever she feared bursting into laughter at the barely contained riot around her.

Killian’s regular glances shot at her from his place catty-corner to her at the long table, looking as though he were about to break up laughing himself and occasionally adding varied tidbits to the conversational flow, which had run everywhere from the merits of classical actors such as John Wayne and Cesar Romero all the way to the imports and exports of Argentina. It was enough to make Emma’s head spin - though in a good way - as she was used to the lonely silence of her own apartment, usually only broken by Tink’s low purrs as she settled on Emma’s lap or the drone of the tv she sometimes turned on for a bit of background noise. She realized while grinning back at Killian mischievously when he winked at her across his parents’ table, as if signaling that they were in on an inside joke together, that she liked it immensely. Now that she saw for herself what this sort of family dinner was like, Emma knew she would miss it when it was gone.

With the meal finished, Emma tried to help clear the dishes and offered to aid in the washing, but neither Margaret nor Ruth would hear of any such thing, and so she was left to wander into the hall as the rest of the family made their way toward the living room. She hesitated, torn and knowing she ought to head home before she got anymore attached to these people or said something stupid to blow her cover, but she genuinely didn’t want to leave.

As if sensing her inner conflict, Killian followed her into the hall and lingered unobtrusively, not pushing but merely wanting to be nearby if she decided she needed something from him.

Emma at last made up her mind, reminding herself that she did have work yet again the next morning - after all, someone without any real family pulled int a lot of overtime during the holiday season - and that she needed to get her life back into some semblance of normality, and heaved a reluctant sigh. Turning to face Killian, who was still waiting there at her elbow, she looked up at him hopefully. “Think you could give me a lift back to my place before long?” she questioned.

Nodding easily, Killian assured her he was nearly ready to head out as well. “Let’s just say our farewells, and we can go,” he assured. His smile was warm, and he appeared not the least bit annoyed, though Emma couldn’t help worrying that she was taking him from his family before he had wanted to leave  
.  
“Hey, you lot!” he called out, leaning into the other room where the bulk of the Jones clan had gathered. “Emma and I are going.” The jovial grin that split his handsome face when he glanced back at Emma amidst the outpouring of exclamations and movement his words caused, made it clear he had known they would all protest she stay longer and want to say goodbye to her.

Emma was swallowed once more in a chorus of affectionate chatter and a jostling circle of hugs and handshakes. Her heart warmed especially when Killian’s father, David, gathered her close in a strong, silent embrace for several moments; his large hand unexpectedly cradling the back of her head protectively and making her feel for one wistful, poignant moment as if she too had a father and was now one of his children. No words were needed as he pressed his mouth chastely to her forehead a fleeting second, the weight of the action telling Emma just how much it meant, even before his choked whisper of “Thank you, Emma. You saved my son’s life...and...I will,,,,never forget it.”

She was blinking back tears of her own then, unused to such gestures or even feeling so genuinely as if she mattered to others, that they saw her and would miss her once she left. She nodded her understanding to David Jones as she pulled away, offering a wobbly smile in return and blinking rapidly, not honestly sure how to express what his heartfelt gratitude meant to her.

Smiling a bit sheepishly himself, Liam and Killian’s father ducked his head slightly, likely realizing his actions might have been a bit overwhelming, and reached out a hand to shake hers instead. “Until we see you next,” he said warmly.

Emma flushed, taking his offered hand and squeezing it tightly in return, hoping to convey the same affection, even if she was a bit awkward at accepting such an unaccustomed boon. “Til then,” she affirmed happily, before the middle-aged man moved back to let his wife envelop her in yet one more enthusiastic hug.

As she and Killian eventually reached the entryway, pausing at the door to retrieve coats and scarves before going back out in the increasing wind and snow, Nick called out from where the rest of the family stood waving them goodbye. “Hey, hold up, guys! No getting off that easy. You’re standing right under the mistletoe!”

Emma glanced up in sudden surprise to see the strategically placed sprig of greenery for herself, just as Killian looked down to her with embarrassed chagrin - an apology for his family’s ridiculous shenanigans already on the tip of his tongue. The quick movement from both of them lead to her knocking his chin against the top of her head, unbalancing them both a bit with the dizzying hit and making them each wince a little in pain as well.

“Nicholas Jones, shame on you!” Ruth scolded, with only mildly admonishing grandmother’s affection. “You’ve flustered them both. She’s Liam’s fiance for heaven’s sake.”

The teenager scowled only a moment at his fun being ruined by not holding them to the rules, but it was a quickly passing stormcloud. His expression cleared again, he bid Emma one more hasty farewell, and then he bounded upstairs, clearly in search of better entertainment.

Emma found her eyes sliding anxiously away from Killian’s as he ushered her from the increasingly warm house, a guiding hand at the small of her back, pink still hotly staining the apples of her cheeks. Thankfully, they were soon on the outside walk once more, the brisk, chill wind cooling her flushed face. She snuck a quick, curious look at her companion, wondering if he’d felt as put on the spot as she had, and hoping he didn’t think she had encouraged the teasing or acted out of line in regards to the loyalty she owed his comatose older brother. It did her heart good to see him once more scratching at his ear awkwardly, letting her know he was at least as flustered as she was, but didn’t seem to be directing any blame or frustration toward her.

Dropping her eyes again, Emma wanted to berate herself harshly. Why did it matter what Killian thought? It wasn’t as if she would actually become a part of his wonderful family; she and Liam weren’t really engaged. Plus, it was Liam she had been watching for so long from afar, Liam she had wished to know better and dreamed of winning over. Her thoughts circled round and round in messy, tangled knots as she tried to unravel the events and feelings unearthed in the last two days.

Almost without her notice, they had reached Killian’s pickup at the curb, bringing her to a surprised halt and sharpening her dazed senses back into focus. She nearly stumbled, reaching a hand out to steady herself on the cold metal door of the weathered truck.

“Easy there,” Killian soothed, coming to a stop at her side. His head tilted as he studied her more carefully. “What is it, Emma? You looked like you were a million miles away.”

Flustered, Emma tried to avoid his piercing gaze, feeling as if those blue eyes could see right into the center of her, reading her every thought with an accuracy she had never encountered before and wasn’t sure how to handle. She shook her head, hoping to feign offhandedness and shift his focus. “It’s nothing, really. Sorry, were you saying something I missed?”

“Not of any importance,” he huffed lightly, shaking his head at her stubbornness, even as he also had to admire it. He could tell something ate at her, that the charming ticket taker his brother had merited the good fortune to meet first needed to unburden herself; yet, he could also already see that pushing her would do him no good.

Emma had just exhaled a tiny sigh of relief when he moved closer, the warmth of his breath in the chilly night air ghosting over her cheeks and standing so near that the toes of his scuffed work boots were practically touching her own softer Ugg-style footwear. Bending slightly to look her right in the eyes once more, Killian’s voice was a low hum seeping into her very pores like warm syrup and stopping the air in her throat. She could actually feel the heat of his words on her skin as they sunk into her conscience. 

“It would seem you are the one who needs to talk but are not quite ready to do so…” he whispered, as if he truly could read her mind. He raised a hand to hold her off as she started to interrupt and deny the fact. “Ah, ah, let me finish, Swan. You can keep your secrets. Just know I am actually quite perceptive. There’s something you aren’t saying, and yet…” he paused for effect, sensing that she was tongue tied and no longer even trying to stop him as she stared back transfixed. He winked at her rakishly, a tiny, taunting smile curving his lips before he added, “I’m choosing to see the best in you.”

Left floundering for some sort of sensible response, Emma gaped at him while he straightened once more before reaching around her to open her door, and then closing it behind her gently once she had clambered up into the seat - still breathless and befuddled. Killian left her field of vision as he walked around behind the truck to the driver’s side, While he couldn’t see her, Emma pressed a steadying hand to her stomach, puffing out a flustered breath and aiming to slow her racing heart. What was wrong with her? Why was she reacting this way? She shouldn’t be so shaken at his merely speaking soft and low in her presence. Killian wasn’t the one she had believed herself in love with over the past several months, and he should not be scattering her thoughts now. Nor should she feel herself wanting to turn to him right there and tell him everything…

His door opened, and Killian hopped into the seat next to her, giving her an open, kind smile; the knowing confidence of moments before past, and a gentle understanding once more in its place. He turned the key in the ignition and spoke up playfully as they started down the long driveway and back toward the city, “Well then, let’s get you home before you turn into a pumpkin, shall we?”

Emma offered him the best smile she could muster at the way he waggled his eyebrows, clearly hoping to make her laugh and put her at ease again. Her mind was still reeling though, and if she had thought she was confused before, it was clear to her now that was only the beginning.


	5. Part Five

CSRomCom18: While You Were Sleeping (Part 5)

The morning after taking Emma to dinner at his folks’ and their near-silent drive back into the city, dawned chilly but bright; though Killian Jones woke to it groggy and angry with himself in the rented hotel room he’d booked in order to be in the city - nearer to the hospital for his brother and the various appointments he needed to attend while in Boston. He knew he had pushed Liam’s fiancé out of her comfort zone - despite his initial good intentions - and he had been beating himself up for the overstep ever since realization hit, mere moments too late.

Stumbling over the nondescript carpet, hand rubbing blearily over his face and his unshaven chin as he made his way to get his morning’s first cup of coffee, Killian kicked himself once more, berating his impatient prying. ‘So what if she has secrets?’ he scolded himself again. ‘Everyone does. You certainly have a few yourself. Just because she wouldn’t tell you her whole life story after knowing you less than 24 hours does not mean she’s hiding things from Liam - or that she has anything serious to hide at all.’

Cursing himself for a fool, and then literally cursing in pain as he clumsily managed both to burn his finger with the tiny complimentary coffee maker and spill the precious brew in the suite bathroom, Killian knew what the issue really came down to. He was disappointed, saddened, struck once again by his own bad luck - the sheer indisputable fact that he didn’t deserve good things, the things he wished for most. Of course Liam would meet the ray of sunshine that was Emma Swan first; he was everything that Killian wasn’t. Ever since they had been in prep school with his citizenship awards and class offices, Liam had been successful, admirable, well-liked...perfect, for all intents and purposes. Though he would never lord it over his five years younger brother, reaching adulthood had not done much at all to bring Killian out of Liam’s impressive shadow. He was successful in his work, even generating surplus for charitable giving, had made a good name for himself in the business world, drawing new customers even as he retained his ethics and honor, had a large, well-situated apartment and nice car, dressed well, and still retained his decent heart and character. What woman wouldn’t choose Liam Jones as a fine man to marry?

Killian sighed, running a frustrated hand through his sleep-disheveled hair and this time managing to pour his coffee into a nondescript white hotel mug - oddly missing his own chipped mug with the jaunty silver anchor on it that Nick had gifted him last Christmas. Not that he was a bad guy or a poor catch, but he certainly looked less promising on paper. He didn’t bring in the paycheck Liam did, nor did he carry the type of prestige his brother had earned. He was more of a jack-of-all trades who had turned his passionate interest in boats and sailing into a modest living at best. Though he well knew he would make a devoted, loving mate for the right woman, she would need to share his love of the sea and adventure, his family, and his simple, uncluttered lifestyle. He didn’t require the material trappings Liam could offer a woman, and if his brother had won Emma Swan’s heart, then Killian knew that he couldn’t truly compete.

And yet...something about her spoke to him, whispered that they could understand each other in a way most would not. He had been to her apartment - and though it had been clean and comfortable, it was nothing fancy. He might have even deemed it sparse, if it weren’t for the unique, cozy touches he had noted scattered throughout her living space: a hand-knit woolen blanket with her name woven in purple draped over the couch, not only a purring pet cat, but adorable personalized dishes for the clearly spoiled creature in pride of place on the very table across from the spot Emma clearly occupied at meals herself. Though he couldn’t pretend to known her whole life story, he sensed a woman with simpler tastes similar to his own - more interested in people and connection, items of sentimental value more than material worth; a kindred spirit more interested in experience than routine complacency.

Hanging his head, Killian sipped his caffeine Black, berating himself for wanting his brother’s fiancé – however briefly – before he shoved the thoughts far into the recesses of his mind, for thinking recklessly that he could make her happier, that he could read Emma Swan like an open book. Wincing at the sharp, strong flavor of the unsweetened beverage, still rather warm and burning his tongue a bit, Killian couldn’t help feeling as though he had earned the slight pain to the roof and sides of his mouth for his disloyal and traitorous thoughts, for his ever-cursed and unlucky timing and desires making him feel as though he had finally met the woman who could complete him and make him smile as he had ever seen his mother do for his father his whole life long.

Finishing the cereal and sausage link he had gotten from room service for breakfast, Killian tried to shake lingering romantic thoughts about Emma Swan from his tired brain. He had things to do, calls to make back to work to see that things were covered with his business and shop while he was here awaiting any changes or news on Liam’s medical progress, and errands to run before he was to have lunch with his father. It would do him no good to dwell on the fact that Liam had been incredibly devoted to his college sweetheart - a brilliant lass named Belle French, a PhD candidate currently abroad studying and lecturing upon ancient texts in Brittany - until a painful falling out they’d had a scant five months before over their future and settling down. Though Killian hadn’t heard as much from his older brother, he had always felt that Liam and Belle would find their way back to each other. Perhaps that was why this seemingly sudden engagement to Emma Swan, whom none of the family had even met until two days ago, didn’t quite add up. Of course, Killian also knew that could very well be his own foolish and impulsive heart influencing his thinking.

At any rate, as he gathered his keys and coat and made his way out of his hotel room, locking it behind him, he needed to focus on the rare chance to spend some quality time with his dad, to talk seriously without interruption. Though David Jones had not outwardly fought or dismissed Killian’s decision a few years back, to start up his own business rather than continuing serious apprenticeship to take on the family farm someday, Killian knew there had to have been a part of his father who found it difficult for a second of his three sons to turn away from the livelihood he had worked hard to build, to provide for them all and hopefully hand down into their care. Just as with Liam - though surely his elder brother’s success must have helped to soothe the blow - Killian knew his choice must have hurt his father, which he had never wanted. It was why he had hesitated as long as he had before striking out on his own.

It couldn’t be fought however. Eventually, he’d had to be honest with himself, and with his dad. There was simply something about boats and the sea which called to him. Though it had not been easy the day he’d brought those concerns to his father; it had been a dry mouthed, hands sweating sort of moment in truth. Yet, Killian suspected, that the way the soil, working the earth and being outdoors in the open air amidst his sheep fed his father’s spirit, helped David Jones to understand his middle son’s yearning better than Killian could have hoped. Beyond that, very thankfully, Nick seemed to adore the family farm - even now as he was almost through trade school for animal husbandry and agribusiness management. Nothing seemed to thrill the youngest Jones brother more than being home on the farm during breaks and vacations, and he loved his father’s flock more than anyone but David himself ever had or would.

Reaching the ground floor, Killian passed through the hotel’s open lobby and made his way to the parking garage across the street where he had left his truck the previous night. It was time - for the moment at least - to leave his scattered thoughts and the fleeting warmth in his chest caused by his memories of the way light had glanced off the gold in Emma’s hair and the bright, unguarded sound of her laugh. He needed to see to his business and worry about his family, not nurse pipe dreams with no hope of coming true…

~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~

By that evening at the end of her shift, Emma felt no less conflicted over the secrets she was keeping, the things she had refrained from telling Liam’s family - and Killian in particular - and the convenient misunderstanding she had allowed to let stand; giving her the chance to experience what it felt like to have a whole, vibrant family for the first time, but also taking advantage of the Jones’ kindness shamefully. Equal warring parts of her had run back and forth in her brain all day as she took tokens and watched the trains fly back in and out of their station almost constantly. And despite the guilt she was suffering and the frustration with herself she felt for not correcting Nurse Ariel’s mistake immediately, before she’d known what she would be giving up, Emma found that as she clocked out for the night, there was still just one place her feet would carry her.

Stopping by her favorite street vendor for a quick bite to eat for supper, Emma was at the hospital and making her way up to Liam’s floor before she had even made up her mind to follow her gut. She waved to Ariel, who was on the phone at the nurses’ station and gave her a rather sheepish smile but still waved back enthusiastically, and then let herself into Liam’s room.

Upon entering, Emma felt her shoulders relax and a sense of relief coming over her, almost affirming that this was where she had needed to be. Perhaps it was the dim lighting in the room, the calm quiet where so much of her day had been full of bustling crowds and hectic noise, or maybe it was even that this man who had intrigued her for so long from afar - fiance or not - needed her in some way.

It was a double room, but as he had been two days ago, Liam was the only occupant presently. Even if unaware, he was very much alone, and Emma couldn’t stand that. She’d been all by herself for too much of her life; she wouldn’t leave another person in that painful solitude if she could make it otherwise. Settling in for the evening, she pulled the nearby chair right up beside his bed, sat down, and reached out to take his hand in hers.

Twining their fingers together, Emma gently squeezed Liam’s digits, whispering as she pulled his arm carefully over to press it against her chest while she began to speak. Bowing her head slightly, she whispered near him into the quiet room. “Liam? It’s your fiancé… Emma…” Though she had begun her statement with an almost sheepish laugh, as if he might wake up and appreciate the humor of the wacky situation with her, her words were cut off by the lump that rose in her throat which she had to swallow hard to speak around.

“Oh, who am I kidding?” she sighed, her eyes stinging with unwanted emotion as she looked down at the handsome man, peaceful and still as if merely sleeping. Where before she had always found herself wanting to wind her fingers through those stubbornly curling, close-cropped tufts of sandy hair, Emma suddenly pictured dark tendrils falling over his brother’s strong brow instead. This man - while he had intrigued her and drawn her in with his kind smiles and friendly greetings each week - she didn’t really know him; never had known him, truth be told. She merely wanted to brush an almost sisterly touch of fingertips across his cheek, hold his hand, and see him wake up - for the sake of his family who loved him dearly, for his own sake, as he didn’t deserve to be struck down so senselessly, and for hers, so she could explain what had happened and hope that - just maybe - he wouldn’t hate her and the rest of the Jones family wouldn’t either.

Finally giving into the urge, Emma laid her cool palm over his slightly warm forehead, wishing to bring him some comfort and to let him know he wasn’t alone before settling into her seat more comfortably, propping her chin on the fist of her free hand while the other still held his large one, rubbing gentle circles over the space between thumb and forefinger. “We both know I’m a complete stranger to you. I don’t know why I’m still pretending when you’re the only one here. You may think I’m the worst sort of person when you wake up, but it truly was a big misunderstanding. I didn’t know how to stop it at first, and then things just got out of hand. Your family…” she paused again, pressing her mouth into a thin line as she tried to bring the welling regret and longing under wraps, “they’re pretty wonderful really. You know that, right? I mean, they just took me in, and they’re so warm and funny. Even though my adoptive mom was great, she’s been gone a long time. It’s just been, well me and my cat,” a strangled little laugh escaped and she wiped a hand across her eyes, sniffling, “for years now. Like I was in the beginning…” She trailed off, shaking her head as the man she was speaking to remained motionless and unresponsive. “Sheesh, just listen to me,” she finally finished off, blowing out a breath and straightening slightly. “This must sound crazy!”

Turning to reach for her jacket and preparing to go, Emma touched Liam’s arm one last time, a parting squeeze of farewell. “Ever been so alone you’d spend the night confusing a man in a coma?” she asked self-deprecatingly. Then, she stood and leaned back down to press a light peck of a kiss to his hairline whispering, “Wake up soon, Liam.”

Then she was gone, slipping out of the room and soon the hospital without ever noticing Killian, who had arrived not long after her to check in on his brother. He had frozen in the doorway behind her, stunned into silence by the admission he’d overheard before he could announce his presence, and had just barely remembered to retreat down the hall far enough to escape detection when Emma had gathered her things to leave. Emerging after a moment, he stood dumbfounded in his brother’s doorway, conflicting emotions all swarming behind his eyes. “Bloody hell,” he murmured, running a hand over his face, “Now what are we supposed to do?”


	6. Part Six

I’m so sorry that it has been forever and a day since I updated this. I hope some of you will still remember and enjoy this next installment. For something that started as part of a summer event, it may actually be closer to the holidays when this fic is supposed to take place by the time it’s done! We’re getting there though. I think just two more parts after this one!

Enjoy!!

~~~**~~~

 

Killian can’t forget what he’s heard, and he doesn’t rest well that night; a rotating medley of first the anguish and guilt in Emma’s voice as she had confessed all at his brother’s bedside the previous evening, and then the crushed and disappointed faces of his parents and gran, hurt to have been deceived and realize that the person they’d taken under their wing was not going to be a part of the family at all. While he had sensed something in Emma from the first moment - a recognition, a spark, an understanding - he knew now that they weren’t really the same. At least, not in the aspect that he’d always had his full, loving family to fall back on, and she had been largely alone in the world - so much in fact that the ragtag bunch of cornballs who welcomed her in with hugs and hilarity had tempted her to pretend to be someone she wasn’t, just to hold onto the feeling of belonging even a bit longer.

While one part of him wanted to accuse her for her subterfuge, to berate her for the pain she was bound to cause his family when the truth came out, another part ached to reach out to her, to assure her that she didn’t have to be all alone, fiance to Liam or no. She could be part of their odd bunch… honestly, she already was. He hadn’t ever truly considered the gift it was to be part of something, even if it were just one’s own ridiculous family, until being struck by the fact that not everyone got that out of life at the beginning.

He needed to talk to her, Killian decided, already on his way to the truck with keys in hand. No matter that it was late - much too late for paying a visit to his brother’s fiance - something told him Emma Swan wasn’t sleeping right now any more than he was. If her words to Liam’s unconscious self had been any indication at all, she wasn’t going to be able to rest with the weight of pressure and guilt she was carrying around, looking over her shoulder with every step and every word, merely hoping she didn’t slip up, give herself away, and make it all cave in like a slippery house of cards.

The streets were dark except for hazy-haloed street lights and the occasional house done up for the holidays in multicolored or twinkling lights. Killian forced himself to cross town slowly despite the sturdy dependability of his truck and its four-wheel drive traction. Snow had fallen, half-melted, and then refrozen again, making the road deceptively slick in places against the rough. Though impatient to find answers - and, he could admit it to himself, hopefully some proof that Emma hadn’t intentionally set out to deceive them all - he wouldn’t gain them any faster by plowing his truck into a ditch or snowdrift.

Finally, Killian reached Emma’s apartment complex, and heading carefully across an open space out front which appeared more than a bit slippery, he made his way toward the entrance, face set and stance determined. He was so focused on his mission, that he didn’t realize Emma herself was actually coming toward him from the sidewalk on his right - having obviously been out as well and just now returning home. 

Her cheeks were flushed prettily, her hair in loose, flowing curls down her back, and she was looking at her phone distractedly, even as he was more focused on the door in front of him. She let out an amused sort of snort at something on her display screen, and he jerked around toward her at the sound. Both startled, they nearly collided with each other, before either fully realized the other was in front of them.

Reaching out quickly, Emma caught herself on Killian’s upper arm, her small hands latching on tightly as her foot skidded on a patch of ice. A thrill ran through Killian at the contact, and though he wobbled slightly, he managed to keep himself steady and both of them upright. “Easy,” he soothed, voice calmer than his heart rate as it tripped and sped with her in his arms and still clutching him tightly as her feet slid on the treacherous ground before finding her balance again and straightening to pull away. 

“Oops,” she shrugged sheepishly, her round, full cheeks coloring even further than the flush they’d already had from the cold. “Sorry about that!”

“No harm done, Lass,” he managed, finding it hard to keep the questions, the accusations, the doubts he’d had about her in his head now that Emma stood before him, smiling up at him kindly, if in a bit of confusion as well. “I startled you.”

She shrugged again, easily teasing him when she replied, “Well, I was a little surprised to see you lurking outside my door. Something I can help you with, Jones?”

The fact that she was enchanting him so easily all over again sent a chill much colder than the icy wind sweeping around them through Killian’s bones and forced him to gather his resolve once more. He needed to know the truth, to face this head-on before they all got even more attached to her - and she to them. He didn’t want to be wrong about Emma, and his gut still told him she was a good person, that she did care. Still, he couldn’t take that chance blindly - not when the rest of his family stood to get hurt as well.

Clearing his throat and squaring his stance determinedly, Killian found Emma’s gaze and held it, needing her to understand how serious this was, how important to him. “Actually there is,” he answered, not allowing himself to make the words light and playful as he wanted to, but instead to keep her eyes held steadily with his blue ones and pull the truth from her tempting lips. It was harder than he’d expected to look at her with accusation, and something inside him shrank in regret when she pulled back, easily reading his change in mood and responding with uncertainty and hurt.

Sighing, Killian pressed forward, knowing he couldn’t back down. “Emma, I heard you talking to LIam in the hospital. I know you aren’t really his fiance.”

Her face fell as quickly as shattered glass from a broken window, eyes painted with fear and heartache, and perhaps a bit of defensiveness as well. Most damning of all, she didn’t even try to deny his words. Wrapping her arms around her torso, as if to create a protective shield of sorts, she bit her lip, clearly trying to rein in some strong emotion - though whether it was sincere disappointment and regret or merely not liking to be caught, Killian wasn’t sure, and he needed to be certain - if not for his own sanity and peace, then for the sake of his brother and family.

“What were you thinking, Emma?” he continued, now that it was out and he could see the guilty look on her face, Killian couldn’t seem to stop his queries. “Did you really believe we wouldn’t find out? Were we just stupid, unsuspecting suckers to you? Easy marks?” His hurt and disappointment at thinking her a kindred spirit, someone he could see himself falling for, and then believing she had played them all false, came rushing out in a flood of harsh, angry words, despite his intention to hear her side and try to gauge the truth for himself before getting upset.

Her green gaze snapped and crackled sharply at him as she looked up, jerking back as abruptly as if he had physically struck her, peering into his face like she barely recognized him for the man she’d been getting to know. Killian’s stomach lurched sickly and his heart twisted and wrung itself in his chest as he saw her lower lip tremble before she pressed them together tightly to hold back the emotion. With a quick, jerking bob of her chin, she spoke in choked anger. “Right. Well, if that’s what you think my plan was, then there’s not much more for me to say.”

Silence reigned between them for several long, pained minutes outside her apartment complex in the crisp air. Killian didn’t know how to fix the rift he’d caused, nor did he completely want to back off. She had still misled them, whatever the circumstances or her reasoning. Emma, for her part, looked half crushed and half offended, and not sure if she should say anything more to him or simply turn and run.

Finally, Emma shook her head sadly, her eyes falling to the ground between them and breaking the locked, silent stare down they had been caught in. “You know,” she finally murmured huskily, her voice shaking in a way he had yet to hear it, a way Killian would venture to guess it didn’t often quaver. “I thought that just maybe, for just a day or two, that I was getting to experience what having a family was like. Right away, in the hospital, as soon as the nurse misunderstood me and I realized she’d misinformed you, I tried to tell your folks. I did. Hurting people who welcomed me in like no one has in my entire life was never my intention. I never wanted to take a thing from any of you! But once they let me in… once I knew what I’d been missing… I just...couldn’t walk away…”

Killian’s heart clenched within him to see her eyes blur and glisten with unshed tears until one broke free and trailed down her cheek. His hand actually twitched with the impulse to rise and brush the wet traces away from her skin with the back of his knuckle; it took all his willpower to hold it back, knowing the contact would only cause more pain.

“Lass,” he choked out, not even sure what words were trying to escape, “I didn’t mean - “

She cut him off, holding up a hand to stop his words. The scorned look on her face stalled his tongue, even as she began to turn away and leave him there in the freshly falling snow and wind. Glancing back at him with one final, heart wrenching flash of green, she added more softly. “You ought to know, if you knew me at all. And, it’s funny, I somehow thought we understood each other… I was trying to find the right way to fix this, looking for the right time to tell them. But you have to understand how hard it is to let go of your family, for someone who has never had one. I hope you know what you have,” she finished, shaking her head sadly and then turning to go, walking away and trying not to break into the sobs she felt rising up her throat, at least until she could get into her own apartment alone.

“Emma, wait,” Killian tried helplessly, not sure what he was going to say, but knowing that he’d made a mistake and couldn’t simply allow her to walk away like that. “I’m sorry I…”

Paused with her hand on the door into her building, Emma shot a glance back at him with the tears shimmering in her eyes, expectant but clearly not willing to give him much longer.

Killian licked his lips, trying to gather his thoughts without taking back the righteous indignation he had every right to, nor regretting his desire to protect his family. His mind was blanking in a way that it didn’t usually fail him when both of their cell phones rang, at almost the exact same time.

LIfting the instrument to his ear, Killian listened intently to the voice speaking to him, keeping an eye on Emma nearby, who was nodding along to her own - he assumed quite similar - phone call. He thanked his caller when they finished speaking, then looked up to meet Emma’s wide-eyed gaze. Her voice was almost breathless in awe as she spoke. “That was the hospital. They- they said Liam’s woken up.”

~***~

Killian pushed through the door into his older brother’s hospital room a mere half hour later; emotions still in turmoil, but not the least of those was relief that Liam was conscious and aware at long last. Once he laid eyes on Liam, sitting up in bed and smiling widely as he caught sight of Killian, the younger brother hurried forward to wrap the elder in a tight, enthusiastic hug. Until that moment, with the man who had always walked ahead of him showing him the way wrapping arms around him as well and hugging him back, Killian hadn’t realized just how lost he’d felt, how concerned he had actually been that Liam might not wake up. 

“Greetings, little brother!” Liam finally chuckled once they’d pulled out of the bear hug, already grinning as if he knew the reaction it would bring, even before Killian grumbled, “Younger...younger brother,” under his breath. 

Both of them chuckled at the familiar and long-practiced exchange, before Killian reached forward to clutch Liam’s forearm and add, “It’s good to see you again.” Blue met blue as their eyes held, until Liam nodded solemnly and Killian was certain his older sibling understood just how much he had been missed.

A soft clearing of the throat came from behind him then, and Killian turned rather sheepishly, having genuinely forgotten in his joy at seeing his brother awake and well that Emma had arrived with him and entered the room right on his heels. Having been in the same place when they’d each received the news, it had only made sense for them to come into the hospital together. It had been a tense, awkward ride in, neither knowing what else to say to the other, but Killian gamely moved aside slightly to let Emma step forward into Liam’s line of sight.

He honestly didn’t expect the way her face fell and his own heart plummeted to somewhere around his toes, when after moving forward tentatively to speak to Liam herself, his brother had given his savior a polite yet completely unknowing smile before asking, “Pardon me, Lass, but...do I know you?”


	7. Part Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I really have to apologize for how long it has been since I updated this little movie AU. I could make all kinds of excuses, but I just think I’ll beg your understanding and promise that I fully intend to wrap it all up soon. Unless things change as I am writing, there should be only one more installment after this one before the fluffy ending. Thanks to all those who have still been reading and asking about this one; I really appreciate your interest. 
> 
> And now, back the CS-inspired version of ‘While You Were Sleeping’....)

Those curious, unknowing words had barely left Liam’s mouth than Emma was sucking in a fractured sob, desperate to hold it in her throat. She gave the man in the hospital bed a tiny, wavering smile before shaking her head and barely murmuring, “No one important, sorry. Don’t worry about it.” Then she was gone in a rush of blonde hair whipping out as she turned quickly - her coat rustled, the door opened, and she was gone in a mere blink of the eye.

Liam turned questioning eyes on his brother, only to find Killian’s gaze still trained on the door the unknown woman had slipped through, a torn expression on his face. It was a look Liam had never quite seen on his younger sibling’s countenance before, or he would have known exactly what it meant. As it was, his concern and confusion was only redoubled. “Killian? What - who was that? Is she alright?”

When Killian’s eyes returned to meet his own, Liam Jones sensed even more strongly that he was missing some crucial part of a puzzle he hadn’t even known existed. He was a man who knew what he wanted, what needed to be done, and always had a plan of action for getting there. He hadn’t left his father’s home and chosen trade to make his own way successfully on a mere whim or by chance, and this uncertain feeling that he had missed something crucial worried and upset him even more than waking up not sure where he was or what had happened had done.

His brother seemed to quickly grasp his unease and moved swiftly to alleviate it. Shaking free from whatever thoughts had been troubling his own mind, Killian gave a somewhat pained, self-conscious half-smile before idly scratching behind his ear in a gesture that was a dead giveaway to someone who had known him all his life that he was either uncomfortable, nervous, hiding something...or all three combined.

All the middle Jones sibling said however, after clearing his throat and shifting uneasily on his feet, was, “I’ll fill you in as best I can in a moment, Brother. Aye? I do hope she will be fine, but who she is...is, well...just a bit more complicated.” He dipped his head slightly to Liam, eyes seeking his older brother’s hopefully. “You trust me, right?”

“Of course,” Liam affirmed, not even hesitating. This was Killian, whom he had grown up with. The man before him had refused to rat him out, even when falsely accused of cheating at school on the one test Liam had ever cheated on (thought two years younger, Killian had possessed a gift for languages which far surpassed his elder sibling’s, even if it was Liam who brought home the straight As). Killian had woken at dawn to milk cows with him before the bus arrived, even willingly taking the chore over during Liam’s senior year when Liam had found an early internship in his field to beef up his college aps, and Killian had been the one who’d saved with him to buy their first vehicle - a truck they had shared until Liam left for college and that he knew Killian still treasured.

“Good,” Killian murmured in a gravelly voice, a warmth in his eyes conveying just how glad he was to see his brother, regardless of what else might be on his mind. “Do you remember fighting off muggers? Or being pushed from the platform at your usual commuting station?”

Liam felt a slight pounding behind his eyes when he scrunched his forehead in thought, letting out a pained hiss and resolving not to try that a second time. He vaguely remembered standing on the platform, some stranger getting in his space, flipping his scarf, yelling, and the sensation of falling, but it was all a bit jumbled. Bringing a hand up to his temple, Killian leaned back to stand and seek the call button before pressing it anxiously. Turning his eyes up to his darker haired sibling, Liam mused, “Possibly? ...At least, maybe parts of it, I think.”

Killian ran an agitated hand back through his already disheveled hair, making Liam want to chuckle at the way the strands were beginning to stick out at all angles and in every direction. For his part, the younger brother did not look amused, but more flustered and upset with himself before finally saying, “I’m sorry, Liam. We should have been calling to have you checked out first thing, and here I am, like a bloody fool, bombarding you with questions the moment you finally wake…”

Something about his brother’s self-remonstrating rant set off further little alarm bells in Liam’s mind. “Wait, so I was mugged? At the station? How long have I been out?”

Killian shook his head, coming back to take his brother’s hand and squeeze tightly, gaze catching his and boring into Liam’s intently. “Long enough to have us all worried, Liam. Let’s just say I’m very glad you’re talking to me, that you know me, and leave it at that until a doctor arrives.”

Liam didn’t like it, but he could see that he wasn’t going to get any more information on his health from his sibling at present - Killian could be every bit as stubborn and bullheaded as Liam knew himself to be when determination was called for, and so he was wise enough to realize that pushing directly wouldn’t get him anywhere. Blowing out a breath in frustration, he swiped a hand through his mussed - despite their close crop - curls and forced himself to focus on his second point of confusion. “Fine, we’ll leave my condition to the doctors, if you insist… but Killian, at least tell me who that lass was who just ran out of here. She seemed upset. Did you - or did I unknowingly - do something to cause her distress?”

Killian bit his lower lip in deep thought for a moment, weighing his options. Liam might not have remembered being engaged, even if he had been; of course, Killian now knew it wasn’t the case anyway, but also that the whole mix-up (though it had gotten out of hand) had begun as an innocent mistake. Something within him, in annoyingly close vicinity to his heart, couldn’t bear to have Liam, and then their whole family, blame Emma as he had mistakenly done, and then turn her out of their affections. His chest ached at the lonely yearning in her voice and expression when he had confronted her - as if she were just waiting to be rejected once more, even as she clung to some fragile hope that this time might finally be different.

Liam’s eyes were beginning to narrow suspiciously, and Killian knew he had better speak up before his brother deduced just how carefully he was weighing his words. Clearing his throat, Killian plunged in with a version of the truth that he hoped might spare everyone - well, everyone but his own traitorous affections. “You don’t recognize her? She’s a toll booth operator at the station you go through every Saturday. According to her, and the police for that matter, you were mugged while waiting for your train and pushed onto the tracks. She… Emma, her name’s Emma… jumped down as well, and somehow managed to roll your unconscious self out of the way before you were both run over.”

Liam’s eyes were wide in shock by the time Killian got that much of the tale relayed, but he was also nodding along with at least some degree of recognition. “Aye, you’re right,” he said softly, eyes somewhat unfocused as he thought back. “I do remember a bit of that altercation - shoving, one of those crooks making off with my briefcase, and the sensation of falling…”

“Exactly,” Killian confirmed, with a dip of his chin in a definite nod. He hesitated as his older brother’s brow furrowed in consternation, clearly frustrated as to why he didn’t remember his - to Killian’s mind anyway, angelically beautiful - savior. Here was where he could stop and let the rest of the chips fall where they might. However, the aching need he had seen on Emma’s face - to belong, to matter to someone, to be a part of something, even something as taken-for-granted by most as a family, pushed him further. His voice was still low, more of a hoarse croak really, because some part of him wanted Emma to be free and unattached, to know if he could enchant her as Liam had done from afar, but still he spoke up trying to comfort himself with the belief that he was sparing everyone else pain - Emma, his family - and giving his brother a gift if the driven sod took his head out of work long enough to recognize and grasp it. “Not only that though,” he added, seeing that he had Liam’s focus once more. “She tells us the two of you are engaged as well.”

“What?” Liam questioned, looking (if possible) even more perplexed than he had been already. “Engaged?”

Killian nodded again, succinctly, calm on the outside, even as his stomach churned. None of what he said was untrue, and yet he was being a bit misleading - not that Liam seemed exactly opposed, merely confused and surprised.

“Brother,” Liam began slowly, “why is it that I seem to remember most other people and things, but not this Emma? At least not beyond vague smiles and greetings as she took my tokens for commutes. Are the rest of you certain she isn’t lying? I would have thought I’d remember proposing to someone; not to mention that if I had, I had always imagined it would be Belle.”

Again, a part of Killian wanted to bite his own tongue off as he prepared to speak further, but he had committed to his course of action now and plunged ahead, all the while still trying to convince himself that he was doing what was best for everyone. “To be honest with you, Liam, I had always supposed you and Belle would return to each other as well,” he answered honestly. “You’d be the one to know what happened there more than I. What I can do is tell you what I’ve learned of Emma while you’ve been sleeping…” He attempted to inject the offer with a bit of teasing humor, and did in fact draw a rueful chuckle from his older brother. 

He then proceeded to share details of the dinner Emma had spent with his family, their reactions to her and affection they held for her, and even his own impressions and how much he genuinely liked her as he had gotten to know her. Before Killian realized, nearly an hour had passed, and Liam wore a thoughtful, but much more at ease, expression on his face as Killian’s words finally ran out.

“You know, Brother,” Liam spoke slowly, deliberately, “perhaps I shouldn’t be so worried about remembering every detail, and instead thank my lucky stars someone who sounds as enchanting and wonderful as you make Emma Swan sound has wound up in my life. Maybe I had better get to know her and see if she still wishes to be my wife rather than trying to recapture the past and allowing her a chance to slip away.”

Killian nodded in agreement, relieved to see that Liam didn’t seem particularly troubled or reluctant at this prospect. He honestly wanted to simply feel relief altogether; this was the response he’d hoped for after all. His brother was alright, Emma wouldn’t have to leave their family and return to her solitary life; things could work out for everyone. But, for someone who was getting what he wanted, why could he feel nothing but heaviness and dread in his heart?

~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~

When Killian stepped outside the hospital onto the busy sidewalk, the chilly bite to the New England air had sharpened further still with the coming of evening. He didn’t have to search long though to discover that Emma was still nearby, clearly having lingered despite her hurt and disappointment, as he could see her huddled against the cold on a bench in the bus stop shelter a mere few yards away. As he neared her and stood in the entrance, as if asking permission to join her with a cocked head and arched brow, Emma glanced up and met his eyes almost sheepishly, before shrugging and nodding her assent. 

She didn’t actually speak aloud until Killian flopped down on the bench beside her, offering him a quirked half-smile in tired self-deprecation before asking, “So, now that Liam’s all caught up, how huge of a crazy stalker does he think I am?” she asked lowly. “Did you guys call the cops, or should I just be prepared to be carted off to therapy?”

Her head bowed again after that, as if she didn’t want to - or couldn’t - keep holding his gaze. Killian sucked a surprised breath into his throat and nearly choked on it. He had long since realized she was sincere and no scam artist after all, but he hadn’t really grasped her level of shame and contrition. Unable to leave her in that sort of turmoil any longer than absolutely necessary, he reached over to cover her cold bare hand with his own where it rested on her knee. Keeping his voice equally low, he still hoped it would convey some warmth and cheer, as he could feel shivers tremoring through Emma’s wiry frame next to him. “Actually, Liam’s decided he’d quite like to get to know you, Lass. He doesn’t remember you - or proposing, for obvious reasons,” he winked at her there and she gave a surprised snort of laughter, even as she also tried to surreptitiously swipe away a few tears, “but after hearing how you saved his life and how much we all love you and how well you fit in, he seemed to see it as an opportunity to get to know someone amazing rather than just letting you vanish.”

It was Emma’s turn for her breath to catch in stunned disbelief. Shaking her head, she did look back at him then, a tentative smile curling her lips even as she returned his stare in pure awe. “How did you…? What - Why would you do that for me, Killian? You know that it was all a big misunderstanding.” She stammered, at a dazed sort of loss, before her protest faded.

“Because I didn’t want you to have to be alone,” he offered simply. “You clearly already think a lot of Liam; he seemed to want to get to know you. You two can handle it from there - but it didn’t seem necessary to cause a lot of hurt feelings and embarrassment when it might all work out for the best anyway. Besides, my family would hate to lose you….and so would I.” He shrugged his shoulders, not sure what else to say in explanation.

It was a gesture that Emma mirrored sheepishly, a tiny smile crossed her face, even as her cheeks blushed bright red. “Who knows? We might end up married in the end after all, huh?” she responded playfully.

“Exactly,” he smirked back. However, he had to swallow hard around the growing lump in his throat to do so - more certain than ever that the perfect happily ever after for her and his loved ones was going to pain him even more than he had realized at first.

Pressing her lips together, Emma seemed to be carefully gathering her thoughts for one more thing she wished to say, not noticing Killian’s inner conflict before he schooled his expression and kept it from showing on his face. “You know, not so long ago, my adoptive mom, Ingrid, was in the last stages of terminal cancer. We’d done all we could to fight it, but her body had taken enough...it was shutting down on her…” She paused, licked her lips, and then straightened herself in her seat and plowed on. “I was sitting at her bedside, clinging on for dear life, cursing the world, and cancer, and Fate, that I would be all by myself in the world again… and she reached over, touched my face, and in just barely a whisper, said, ‘You’ll find a family again, my girl. I know it.’ Those were… h-her last words. And I - I didn’t believe them until right now.”

Blinking rapidly, she looked up into his eyes with her teary green ones shining. “Thank you, Killian. For giving me a chance. I adore your family, and I certainly don’t want to hurt them… You know that, right?”

He could tell she was about to start rambling in reassurance, and so he reached out to cover her lips, shaking his head with a humored grin. “Emma, Emma,” he soothed, breaking in before she could get on too much of a roll, “It’s okay. I know.”

For a second he stared into her eyes, shocked, and his hands darted away from her mouth quickly, feeling almost heated by the spark of chemistry that ricocheted from where their skin brushed. They were both silent, waiting, until the moment nearly passed.

Licking her lips once more, Emma nodded as if in acceptance of all they had discussed, then finally murmured, “Well, I’m grateful….So let’s see what happens… Unless….” She almost trailed off, looking away and then back to him again, “Unless you can give me some reason I shouldn’t see where this thing with Liam might go?”

Killian shook his head, barely even hesitating before he answered, “Of course not, Lass. Liam is the very best of men - my brother or not. I wish nothing but happiness for the both of you.” And that was that - even if he felt his heart sink inside him as he said the words.


	8. Part Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sheesh, I am so sorry it has taken this long to get the last installment of this fic to you guys! I hope if you’re still reading, you’ll enjoy the happy conclusion (and the nods to the original movie, which I adore, along with those to Captain Swan and their relationship). Thanks so much for reading this little movie AU. I’d love to hear what you think!

Looking back on the next few days from the settled perspective of years later, Killian Jones was still never quite able to pinpoint when exactly things snowballed so quickly out of control. Doubtless, once his mother and grandmother learned Liam was awake and eager to reacquaint himself with the fiancé they had already fallen in love with and welcomed into the family fold, their enthusiasm swept things along at rather inevitable speed. Where he expected Emma to balk at being swept up in his family’s wake, or for Liam’s missing chunks of memory to return and remind him that he barely knew this woman everyone claimed he loved, neither did any such thing. If occasionally he caught Emma’s eye across a room full of fabric samples and bridal magazines, and wished to tell her that she could still call the whole thing off over the babble of his family debating chicken or fish at the reception dinner, he also bit back the protest at the look within her dazzling green ones. Yes, she appeared a bit overwhelmed, but it was more a pleading sort of fear if he read it correctly. She seemed to be begging him to continue keeping their secret, to help her spare these people they both loved pain, and not to toss her out in the world alone once more.

He could kick himself now. Had he realized sooner what he truly felt and how strong it was, he would have told her he was the Jones brother falling in love with every little quirk she possessed - from the way she snorted with laughter to the way she raptly listened to his gran’s stories no matter how long they stretched, or the way she could debate comic book minutiae with Nick to a true nerdish degree that clearly thrilled his younger sibling. This farce he’d drawn she and Liam into - no matter how well-meant his original intentions - was strangling them now, and it hadn’t even been necessary. He hated to contemplate the anguished fallout for everyone if Liam did someday regain the rest of his memories - or the feelings Killian had always believed his elder brother still harbored for his first love.

Bloody prat that he was, he’d made a right muddle of things in his attempts to do right by all concerned. He accepted the fact that he had brought heartbreak on himself, but that he might have trapped Emma and Liam into a marriage that might never grow into love as he had first thought it could? That was unbearable. And the idea that Emma would bear the weight of anger and recrimination if the charade fell apart was also nearly more that he could stand. Yet, still Killian held back - no longer sure how to proceed and almost certain it was much too late to come clean. The damage had already been done.

~~~~~******~~~~~~******

Somehow, in a string of events quite beyond her comprehension, Emma knew that she was in this whole wedding farce well over her head, and with no way to swim back to the surface. All that time ago, when she’d jumped onto the rails and saved Liam Jones’ life, she had believed herself in love with him… or, at least the idea of him as he had appeared from afar. In all actuality, now that she had gotten to know him a bit beyond casual hellos and goodbyes in passing, he was every bit the pleasant and engaging gentleman she had supposed he would be, if a bit predictable and excessively proper at times.

For someone who really hadn’t even known her name or anything about her, he had been the model fiancé since waking up and being told she was his intended bride. The trouble was with Emma’s own disloyal heart - and of course, her uneasy conscience. She couldn’t escape the harsh truth that deep down she was deceiving Liam, that someday it would all come out, and he and his whole family would hate her for the hurt and unhappiness she could have prevented simply by being honest with them.

It wasn’t only that either. The other niggling reality which wouldn’t let her alone was that she knew now she didn’t truly love Liam Jones. Oh, he was still every bit as handsome as she had ever thought him; just as desirable and accomplished and successful - a true catch in every way but one. He wasn’t it for her. She couldn’t have known it when this whole fiasco began, but the Jones man she had longed for from afar was not the one who made her heart pound and her cheeks heat. He wasn’t the one who had shared his secret hopes and fears with her or come to know and understand her as she rarely allowed anyone to do. That was all Killian - and she had made it well nigh impossible for the younger Jones to love her in return.

Now, here she was in a side hall off the hospital chapel, wearing a ridiculously lacy confection of a white dress, about to marry the wrong man and quite possibly wreck both their lives because she couldn’t bear to stop being a part of something - a family - that she had never been allowed to experience before. Blowing out a short breath, Emma shook her clammy hands and tried to steel herself for the ceremony ahead. It suddenly seemed as if she couldn’t go forward or back, she was merely frozen where she stood with no right way out.

At that moment, David Jones, Liam and Killian’s father, appeared in the doorway that led through to the front of the small chapel, offering her a warm, comforting smile as he came to stand before her. He was happily standing to give her away (and gain her as one of his own at the same time), and he reached out to grip her upper arms bracingly as he faced her in the narrow hall, a calmly affectionate look on his face - just the sort of look Emma had always imagined a father of her own wearing when she had made him proud. ‘If he only knew the truth, he’d be anything but…’ her inner voice whispered unkindly, and Emma felt confession bubbling up her throat, just barely managing to clench her teeth and bite back the words that would make that accepting warmth on the older man’s face go cold. This was exactly how she had gotten into this mess. These people had given her the chance to know what a real family felt like, and she couldn’t give it up - no matter what kind of a liar it made her.

“Ready for the big moment?” David asked gently, his motions soothing as he first enveloped her in a hug, then straightened and offered her his arm to lead her down the aisle.

Emma merely nodded wordlessly, her mouth unbearably dry all of a sudden, and she found that her hand was trembling as she looped it through David’s crooked elbow. She could only hope he would chalk it up to normal wedding jitters rather than her emotions going haywire or her guilty conscience.

As if she didn’t already feel badly enough for all her repeated falsehoods, just as they reached the double doors that lead into the chapel down its center aisle, the Jones family patriarch leaned in to murmur softly, but with heartfelt sincerity, “I’m glad to have you joining our family.”

Drawing in a tight breath, Emma smiled, actually wanting little more than to be one of them as well. However, she also swayed on her feet slightly, wishing it weren’t with these sorts of strings and deceptions attached. Somehow it seemed she barely blinked and they had slipped through the entryway arm-in-arm and they were halfway down the aisle, an off-duty reception nurse Nick had enthusiastically enlisted playing the Wedding March on the organ in the corner to accompany their steps.

This was her wedding! And yet, Emma felt herself breaking out in a cold sweat, wishing there were some way she could pause, even for a moment, to bring things back under control. As they neared the altar at the end of the aisle, the spot for once witnessing a happy occasion instead of pleading, broken family of the critically ill and injured, Emma’s gaze landed on Liam, standing tall despite still having an IV pole next to him, fluids still feeding into his right arm. He, or someone in his overzealous family, had attempted to tame and slick back his normally riotous curls, and he offered her a hesitant but hopeful, genuine smile as she came to stand beside him, offering her his large and steady hand.

She placed her fingers in his grasp, hoping he would also forgive the trembling he must feel just as his father had. Biting her lower lip, Emma offered a tentative smile in return. The prospect of marrying this steady, caring man - one whom she had blatantly admired for some time - shouldn’t be filling her with hesitation and dread, and seeing his willingness to stand up with her, even not knowing how they had come to be together, nearly made her resolve to carry this whole thing through.

And then her eyes caught Killian’s over his brother’s shoulder where he stood as best man. The enthralling blue she’d grown used to glimpsing, gazing into her soul, was muted and pained, even as he too offered her a crooked smile. Clearly, he was doing his best to step out of the way, to help her keep her secret and to support his brother’s happiness, and so he said nothing. Yet Emma had come to know him well enough now to understand he had all the same doubts she was holding in, and unless she was only reading what she wished to see, a measure of the same pain and regret she wasn’t going to be able to ignore.

Standing there one moment longer, Emma let her eyes trace over Killian’s features once more before moving to Liam, David, and the faces of the rest of the Jones clan seated to her left. If she was about to ruin everything, she wanted to be sure to fix in her mind everyone she would be giving up, the family she could have had. Then she drew in a breath, squared her shoulders and faced her groom to finally admit the truth.

“Wait, please…” she interrupted, halting the music and drawing the rapt attention of everyone in the room. “There’s something I need to tell you...all of you.” She forced herself to meet Liam’s eyes steadily - he deserved that much from her - but gestured to the rest of his family around her.

Liam, for his his part, nodded kindly, indicating she should go ahead and that he was listening. Emma swallowed hard, trying to tell herself he wasn’t about to hate her. “I’m not who you think I am. I mean, I am Emma Swan, and I did save your life after you were mugged, but ...we were never engaged. One of the nurses misunderstood the situation when you were brought in. I only wanted to know that you’d be alright - but then everyone believed I was your fiancé before I could correct them. And then I met you - all of you - “ she glanced at Ruth, Margaret, Nick, and David. “You welcomed me into your home, made me a part of your family, and I - I just fell in love. I didn’t want to let you go.”

She ended with her eyes on David, a father figure like she’d never known before, and he had a near-comical look of stunned confusion on his face. “With me?” he repeated densely, trying to catch up and absorb all she had just told them.

A rather undignified snort escaped her - half laugh, half sob - as her eyes fell to her feet. Shaking her head, Emma raised her face once more to answer him. “Well, your entire family…. A-and your son.”

David Jones nodded, still not quite grasping her meaning, or the real problem. “Well, yes, obviously. Isn’t that why we’re here?”

With a teary smile, Emma had to shake her head ‘no’ once more. Gesturing around Liam’s solid form toward Killian, she clarified, “Not that son...that one.”

She heard gasps from their assorted audience, even as Killian took a step forward, eyes sparkling mischievously and one corner of his mouth tilting upwards with more confidence. “Killian, what did you do?” she heard his mother admonish, scandalized. Emma’s eyes met Killian’s despite the chaos quickly growing around them, and it was all either of them could do not to burst out laughing.

Even as the others began to stand and press forward, all asking questions and talking at once, Emma forced herself to turn back to face the older Jones brother, truly sorry if she had hurt him and needing him to understand that she had never intended any of this. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, under the hubbub rising in the room.

To her relief, Liam merely nodded in quiet understanding and stepped to the side, allowing Killian to move just a bit closer. The elder brother went to his gran, who looked to be swaying on her feet a bit stunned, and was clinging to Nick’s arm tightly. Emma bit her lip, relieved and desperately anxious to speak to Killian, hoping against hope that maybe all was not lost, only to have his mother accost him just before he could reach her.

Their eye contact broken, Emma’s heart fluttered anxiously in her chest, all her fear and self-doubt welling up once more. The room seemed to be closing in as questions flew and the ludicrous nature of what she’d done settled upon her. She needed to get out of there before she did anymore damage. Honestly, her decisions so far had caused Killian’s whole family enough stress and difficulty; hanging around hoping that they would let her back in after this was more than Emma felt she deserved.

In the midst of the clamor, there was suddenly a loud thump as the doors at the end of the aisle swung open again and hit the wall with the force. The sound of quick, determined footsteps charged down the aisle toward them. The small crowd of guests and family hurriedly parted to reveal a tiny spitfire of a brunette, hands on her slim hips and eyes crackling ferociously. Her petite frame was heightened by sky-high gold heels and a short, pleated skirt, but Emma sensed immediately that despite her deceptively fragile appearance, the woman was not one to be trifled with.

“Liam Jones!” the brunette demanded sharply, her voice causing the man in question to pull himself up straight as if snapping to attention. From the moment she had appeared, this woman had arrested Liam’s gaze completely, but now he was breathlessly focused on her awaiting her next words like air to breathe. “What is going on here?!?” she continued, her tone harsh with indignation, but a tremulous quaver almost lost beneath that made Emma wonder if this newcomer’s true prevailing emotion were not hurt more than anger. “You - you proposed to me!”

Liam’s mouth fell open for a moment, aghast, and even as he was floundering for words, he stepped forward to reach her saying, “Belle, let me explain…” The room’s other occupants erupted in movement and exclamations once more.

Emma saw a break in the people nearest her and a clear path to the door. The woman, whom she now knew to be the elder Jones’ aforementioned first love, was her deciding sign. She had done more than enough to disrupt their lives, and the best thing she could do for the Jones family now was to get out of the way. Before Killian or anyone else could reach her to question her or try to convince her otherwise, Emma slipped out of the chapel, swiping uselessly at the tears that were already streaming down her face.

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

 

One week later…

Emma Swan was once more at her post in the Riverside terminal, listlessly checking tokens in a monotonous routine that she didn’t dare upset. The excitement that had broken her usual days had nearly undone her, and she would be better off simply doing her job, going home to Tink, some hot cocoa and Law & Order reruns, and leaving well enough alone.

Yet, despite her best intentions, Emma couldn’t help wondering how all of the Jones clan were doing. Had their gran recovered from the shock? Did David, Margaret and Nick hate her for her false pretense? And even more important, what had happened with Liam and Belle? Had the other woman understood what occurred? In truth, did Liam even understand himself how the convoluted sequence of events had led to her being his mistaken fiancé? Above all of these concerns however, the worry that truly pressed on her mind, pained her heart, and wouldn’t even allow her a peaceful night’s sleep was her concern for Killian. Did his family know he had kept her secret? Did they blame him for it? Did he, now that he’d had time to think? Initially, Emma had clung to the faint hope that Killian might still want to see her, might come to her apartment and find her again. She had thought there was something between them on the verge of acknowledgement when she didn’t go through with the wedding. But, as two days became three, then four, then five, she had resigned herself to the fact that she must have been wrong.

Reaching out to take the next commuter pass, Emma didn’t even look up to see the waiting passenger’s face. “Go on through,” she directed, beckoning with a wave of the hand.

“Actually, Love,” a warm and familiarly accented voice addressed her clearly, “I’d prefer to remain with you, if you don’t mind.”

Emma’s eyes shot up in stunned realization to meet the brilliant blues of Killian Jones, sparkling playfully as he gazed back at her, wide grin stretching across his face with glee. 

Seeing that he now had her full attention, Killian cocked his head to the side, playfully waggling his dark brows at her as he asked, “Well, Swan, did you miss me?”

Even as a loud bubble of laughter escaped her, a haze of unshed tears swam before her vision as she nodded vigorously, completely at a loss for words. It was as though she had dreamed him there before her and she couldn’t make herself believe he was real.

When Emma still didn’t give an audible reply, a chorus of voices began to chime in, causing her to realize they weren’t alone.

“Come now, Killian, don’t tease the poor girl,” Ruth’s gentle voice chided to his left.

“Yeah, let’s do this already!” came Nick’s impatiently excited addition. “Show Emma what you brought.”

“Aye, brother.” Emma spared a glance just over Killian’s right shoulder to where Liam stood, the brunette from their near-wedding cuddled to his side and now smiling at her genially. “After all, if you’re afraid to go after what you want, you deserve what you get!” His words were obviously meant in jest, though she could see Killian straightening his shoulders as if galvanized into action, but Liam only gave her a small, forgiving smile and winked, letting her know things were well between the two of them.

She saw now that Killian’s entire family was with him, flanking him in support. And not one of them looked anything less than pleased. None seemed to be harboring her a bit of ill will, and a fear than had been weighing on her almost constantly slipped off her shoulders at the sight. Margaret Jones even had tears of sincere joy twinkling in her eyes right along with Emma as she nodded to acknowledge the younger woman’s glance with a friendly smile.

“You - you’re all...here…” Emma stumbled to get out, flabbergasted with surprise and gratitude, and simply happy to see them all again.

“Of course we are, Swan,” Killian murmured, leaning in closer to the window that separated them, words meant for her alone. “However, I would like to come in there with you now. I’ve a question for you that requires at least a bit of privacy.”

Her wits finally restored enough to play with him a little in return, Emma smirked before shaking her head in mock regret. ‘It’s not allowed, sorry. You don’t have enough tokens.”

Killian gave a short nod, grin recognizing what she was doing and happily calling her bluff. Reaching into his pocket, he removed his hand, fisted around something Emma couldn’t yet see, and slipped it into the same slot where he had placed his token before. Letting his mischievous eyes glimmer at her in a way that couldn’t fail to take her in, Killian ran his tongue along his full lower lip, knowing Emma’s eyes were following the motion, and asked, “What about this? Will it do?”

To her astonishment, Emma looked down after hearing a tinkling metallic sound to find that Killian had dropped, not another few tokens as she had assumed, but an engagement ring, unmistakable in its beauty and meaning.

“Now will you let me in?” he asked more seriously, as she meet his eyes while blinking back tears, already nodding ‘yes’ vehemently and depressing the button which would allow him through into the small kiosk with her.

As soon as she was within his reach, Killian swept her up into his arms, and Emma wrapped hers around his neck, kissing him back and laughing for sheer joy as he rained kisses across her cheeks. “Can’t believe I nearly let you get away,” he whispered against her skin.

Emma offered him the most brilliant smile she could manage. “I’m so glad you didn’t,” was all she could really say in response.

~~~~~***~~~~~~~~***~~~~~

Liam asked her once when it was that she had fallen in love with Killian instead, and she’d answered him simply and honestly. Shrugging her shoulders, she replied, “That’s easy. It was while you were sleeping.”


End file.
